


the kind of love (i've been dreaming of)

by dickpuncher420



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Zuko (Avatar), Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Sokka (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 00:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21235370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickpuncher420/pseuds/dickpuncher420
Summary: “But I think you can make an exception for tonight, no?” Sokka continues. “It’s the10 year anniversary.Loosen up a little.”Zuko resists the urge to lean in, close the distance between them. He rolls his eyes instead. “And how am I supposed to do that?”—It's the ten year anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War, and Sokka has a few ideas on how to help Zuko loosen up.





	the kind of love (i've been dreaming of)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired almost entirely by Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier. i'd recommend giving it a listen.

_“I’d suffer Hell if you’d tell me  
_ _What you’d do to me tonight”_

-_Dinner & Diatribes_, Hozier

In all his years living in the Fire Nation Royal Palace, Zuko has never seen the banquet hall so lavishly decorated, or even so full of life. His father and grandfather were never ones for pomp or dramatic flair, so events like these were always formal and subdued, and etiquette and propriety were prized above all else. Zuko, being the playful and energetic child that he was, always chafed against all of the complicated unspoken rules that governed such gatherings, and more than once he found himself on the receiving end of Ozai’s wrath when he just couldn’t sit still a second longer.

Now, though, the banquet hall teems with life. Dignitaries and officials from all over the world have gathered together to celebrate, and the floor is awash with colour: vibrant Fire Nation reds, bright whites and blues from both of the Water Tribes, the muted greens of the Earth Kingdom and even, dotted here and there, spots of yellow and orange—Air Acolytes.

Elegant tapestries line the walls, illuminated by the warm glow of the braziers that burn cheerfully along the columns that support the soaring roof of the hall. A band is stationed at the far end of the room, and the music carries over the thrum of the crowd, all the way to where Zuko sits overlooking the festivities.

If he’s being completely honest, Zuko isn’t exactly one for this much…_extravagance,_ either. But it’s the tenth anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War, which means that Zuko can’t really begrudge his people for wanting to celebrate. Tonight, the entire caldera is alive with festivities, people filling the streets to dance and drink and let loose, so it’s only fair that the celebration inside the palace be just as, if not _more_, indulgent.

Unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately—as the Fire Lord, Zuko isn’t given quite the same freedom to partake in the festivities as his guests. Instead he sits on a raised dais at the front end of the banquet hall and greets, one by one, those who come to wish him, in various states of inebriation, good health and fortune—and, in one particularly embarrassing case, bountiful loins. Zuko takes it as graciously as he can, as nobles and high-ranking officials contort themselves into the deepest bow they can manage, or even, once or twice, try to kiss his hand.

Zuko’s used to it all by now—he’s been Fire Lord for 10 years, after all—and he’s not saying that he’d rather be in the middle of the throng getting his toes stepped on and wine spilled on his robes, but it’s just that…well. He’s bored, is all. He’d gotten a glimpse earlier of Aang and Katara, both guests of honour, putting other couples to shame on the dance floor, and Toph’s booming laugh as she challenged guests to drinking contests had been impossible to miss.

It’s weird, to feel like he’s missing out on his own party.

It’s not as if he can do anything about it, though. As much as he’d like to be spending time with his old friends, especially considering how little he sees of them as it is, he has his responsibilities to attend to as Fire Lord.

There’s a lull in the line of guests waiting to greet him, so Zuko takes the opportunity to relax for a moment, leaning against the hard back of his ornate throne. A servant offers him a glass of wine, and Zuko takes it with a grateful smile. As he nurses his drink, lazily surveying the crowd, Zuko’s thoughts turn, as they often do, to Sokka.

_Married to his duty,_ Sokka would always say in that teasing voice of his, and Zuko can’t help but smile at the thought.

His smile fades a little, though, when he remembers that he hasn’t seen Sokka since dinner. As a guest of honour, Sokka had been seated at Zuko’s table at the head of the banquet hall, but far enough away that they hadn’t been able to exchange a single word. Zuko couldn’t help sneaking glances in his direction throughout all five courses: Sokka exuded confidence and charm, captivating the attention of all those seated near him. Zuko had neglected his own meal—and the people next to him—in favour of trying to eavesdrop on Sokka’s conversations as he recounted their perilous exploits as teenagers trying to take down the Phoenix King. Zuko has heard the same stories hundreds of times by now, but there’s just something about the way Sokka tells them, with broad sweeps of his arms and a gleam in his eye, that makes Zuko sure that he could hear them a hundred times more and never get tired of them.

But now it’s been nearly two hours since they were served dessert and the tables were cleared away to make room for the guests to talk and mingle, and Zuko has seen neither hide nor hair of Sokka, even from his vantage point atop the dais. He’s starting to get frustrated, which he knows is irrational because they’re both important people with different duties to attend to, but still—he can’t help it. Scowling, Zuko downs the last of his wine and hands the empty glass to a waiting servant. Then, he steels himself, schooling his face into the composed Fire Lord mask that he’s perfected over the years, and motions for his herald to send the next guest forward.

And the spirits must have taken pity on Zuko, or read his mind or _something_, because the next guest climbing the steps up to Zuko’s throne is, of all people, Sokka.

Zuko feels his mask slip a little despite his best efforts because, _spirits_, Sokka looks stunning. Zuko hadn’t been able to get a proper look at him during dinner, and now it feels a little bit like his breath has been punched out of his chest—not to be dramatic, or anything.

Sokka is wearing a set of formal Water Tribe robes, all deep blues and gleaming white furs set against his brown skin. His shoulders are broad and bare, the muscles in his arms accentuated by a set of sleek blue sleeves, and a silk sash pulls his waist into an elegant taper. Now that Sokka is living in Republic City, the two of them don’t see each other for months on end sometimes—this is the first proper look that Zuko has gotten of Sokka in weeks, and he sweeps his eyes appreciatively over him from his head to his toes.

Zuko flushes when he looks up and sees Sokka doing the same.

“Presenting Republic City Councilman Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe,” says the herald, but it sounds so far away…Zuko can barely hear it over the sudden pounding of his heart.

Sokka steps forward, looming over Zuko for a second—spirits, he’s so _tall_—and then hebows down, at the proper depth that etiquette dictates…but his eyes never leave Zuko’s—which is _definitely_ a breach of etiquette, but when have the two of them ever bothered with formalities?

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” Sokka murmurs. It’s playful and teasing, but Zuko’s stomach drops nonetheless at hearing his voice. “I trust you’re faring well?”

Zuko swallows. “Very well, thank you,” he says. Sokka smiles, his eyes bright with mischief.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sokka says. And then, before Zuko can react, he grabs Zuko’s wrist and presses his lips to the back of Zuko’s hand.

Zuko’s skin burns at the contact, and he feels a flush rise to his face. Whenever other people had gone to kiss his hand, it had felt uncomfortable and invasive. With Sokka, however, it just feels…provocative.

Sokka lets his lips linger much longer than is strictly proper—not that Zuko is complaining. He does have appearances to maintain, though, so he tries to pull his hand away—but not before Sokka flips his hand over and presses a kiss to his palm.

“Republic City and the Southern Water Tribe send their regards, and I wish you much fortune and good health, my Lord,” Sokka says with a cheeky grin. And then he leans in, much, much closer than is appropriate, and whispers so that only Zuko can hear, “And many, _many_ orgasms.”

Zuko chokes. Sokka steps back, looking smug, and makes a placating gesture towards the guards who had stepped forward in warning at their…indecency.

“May the sun never set on your reign,” Sokka says, bowing again. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your night, Your Majesty.” Zuko can feel his blush all the way to the tips of his ears.

“May the tides be with you, Councilman Sokka,” Zuko barely manages to choke out.

Sokka smiles and then, with a wink, turns and lopes back down the stairs, disappearing from view.

Zuko slumps back in his throne, appearances be damned. He feels hot all over, and his heart is still hammering in his chest.

Stupid Sokka and his stupid, sexy voice and his stupid, cocky smirk. Zuko can’t stop thinking about the feeling of his lips against his hand, and now he’s picturing Sokka’s lips in _other_ places and Sokka’s hands and Sokka’s skin and—

“Excuse me, my Lord. Forgive my interruption, but are you alright?” says a voice at his side.

It’s the servant who had brought him wine earlier—Lanying, he thinks her name is.

“I—” Zuko swallows, his eyes drawn to where he can just spot Sokka weaving his way through the crowd. “Get me a glass of water. Please.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Lanying says with a bow, and hurries off.

Zuko sighs, rubbing at his eyes. The image of Sokka leaning over him, his breath hot on his collarbone and his voice low and sultry in his ear, seems to be burned into his mind.

Tonight is going to be a long night.

—

Eventually, Zuko runs out of guests to greet, and he finds himself thrust out into the throng to mingle with his guests on more equal footing. He’s shed his heavy cape and imposing pauldrons, leaving him only in his lightweight formal robes, so he manages to blend in more or less to the crowd. A pair of guards trail behind him at a watchful distance.

Zuko runs into Katara and Aang, and he spends a few minutes catching up with the newlywed couple, exchanging anecdotes about their lives in the past 6 months since the wedding. A little more than tipsy, the two hang off of each other like koala-bears, disgustingly affectionate and still riding on the high of their honeymoon phase. He bids them goodbye before they get too caught up in each other, with promises of seeing them the next morning at breakfast.

He finds Toph in the middle of an arm-wrestling competition with the head of the Earth Kingdom military. Wedging himself into the large circle of spectators, he watches as she thoroughly crushes the huge man, to raucous cheers from the crowd. Toph downs a glass of wine, winks at a pair of infatuated noblewomen, and then makes a beeline for Zuko. She immediately challenges him to a drinking game, which Zuko grudgingly accepts (and loses, quite badly).

Suki and the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors are slightly more composed than the rest of the guests, but only just. Their makeup hides the telltale flush of alcohol, but Suki’s movements are a little less coordinated than usual, and she staggers when Ty Lee throws herself at her to plant a noisy kiss on her lips. Zuko locks eyes with Mai across their heads and raises an eyebrow. She only shrugs goodnaturedly and steadies Ty Lee when she flounces back to throw her arms around Mai’s waist.

Sokka continues to elude him.

Trying not to let his disappointment show, Zuko lets himself be pulled into conversations and dragged onto the dance floor. He exchanges niceties with the mayor of Republic City and clinks glasses with the Northern Water Tribe’s Head of Foreign Relations. A drunken nobleman tries to flirt with him. He waltzes politely with the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador.

About an hour in, he finds himself dancing with his Director of Agriculture, who has been ranting about this year’s grain yields for the past five minutes. Zuko tries valiantly to look interested and _not _think about how much his feet hurt. He suspects that he might be failing, but his dance partner doesn’t seem to have noticed, too caught up in giving him an in depth explanation of the rice fields’ irrigation system.

Just as he is debating faking an injury, and whether or not that might cause a national scandal, someone taps him on the shoulder. Zuko tries not to sob in relief.

“Mind if I cut in?”

_That voice._

Zuko turns to see Sokka, grinning at them with amusement.

His partner splutters. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of—”

Zuko cuts her off. “Of course not, Councilman Sokka.”

Sokka holds out his hand, and Zuko takes it, letting himself be dragged away. The Director of Agriculture looks after them in outrage.

A new song starts up, slow and seductive. Sokka settles a hand on Zuko’s waist, and takes Zuko’s hand with his other. Sokka is very warm. Zuko’s skin tingles where they touch.

“You two looked like you were having fun,” Sokka says once they’re out of earshot. He sounds amused.

Zuko groans. “I never would’ve agreed to dance with her if I’d known she was _that_ kind of drunk. Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“No problem,” Sokka laughs. “You seemed like you needed a rescue.”

Zuko puts his hand on Sokka’s shoulder and toys with the soft fur lining his collar. Sokka’s words from earlier ring in his head. He feels suddenly restless.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Zuko blurts. His face burns at the admission. He feels like he’s revealed something important, laid his cards out on the table for the world to see.

“Oh?” Sokka says. He pulls Zuko into a turn, his face the picture of innocence. “Why’s that?”

Zuko huffs. “What, is it wrong to want to see my boyfriend that I haven’t seen in almost a month?”

“‘Course not. I just thought you’d have more important things to do, Mr. Fire Lord,” Sokka teases.

“I haven’t been _completely_ neglecting my duties. You saw me just now, you think I’m subjecting myself to listening to my Director of Agriculture rant on and on about rice for _fun?_”

Sokka laughs. “I’m joking, babe. I know you’re still doing your job. Married to your duty, and all that.” He dips Zuko suddenly, and Zuko tries not to squeak, gripping Sokka’s shoulder like a lifeline. When Sokka pulls him back up, they’re nose to nose. “But I think you can make an exception for tonight, no?” Sokka continues. “It’s the _10 year anniversary_. Loosen up a little.”

Zuko resists the urge to lean in, close the distance between them. He rolls his eyes instead. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Well,” Sokka says, “dancing with me is a good start.”

“I can’t dance with you forever,” Zuko points out.

Sokka hums. “You’re right. Guess we’ll have to find another way to loosen you up.”

Nothing happens, but the air between them feels suddenly charged. Zuko licks his lips. He wonders if Sokka can hear the way his heart is hammering in his chest.

“Did you have any ideas?” Zuko says.

Sokka looks mischievous. “A few.”

Something curls low in Zuko’s gut.

“Tell me.”

And so Sokka leans in, his lips just brushing Zuko’s ear. The rest of the world seems to fade out, Zuko’s focus narrowing to the feel of Sokka’s breath on his neck, Sokka’s hand on his waist, Sokka’s hand in his own. They must look indecent to all the people around them, pressed much too close to be proper, but Zuko really, truly does not care. All he cares about is Sokka.

“I think I’d start with getting you out of those robes,” Sokka murmurs. “I’m not saying you don’t look good in them, because you do, but I think you’d look even better without them on.”

Zuko shivers. He slides his hand from Sokka’s shoulder to the back of his neck, holding him close. He feels Sokka pull him closer too, his hand going to the small of Zuko’s back. They’re barely even dancing now, just swaying side to side to the music.

“What else?” Zuko says.

“Hmm.” Sokka’s hand begins to drift, tracing up and down Zuko’s back. “I’d get down on my knees, and I’d take you in my mouth, and I’d suck you off so, so slow. Until you’re just on the edge of coming.” His hand slides lower, over the curve of Zuko’s ass. “And then I’d stop. And I’d finger you open. Nice and slow. I’d use my mouth too, if you wanted. Eat you out and lick you open until you’re all wet and loose. Till you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Zuko swallows. He can feel himself getting hard. “And then?”

“And then,” Sokka says, “I’d tie you up. Just your wrists, so that you can’t touch yourself. And then I’d straddle you, and I’d touch myself, and I’d make you watch. No touching, just watching.”

Zuko’s mouth has gone dry. He lets out a shaky breath and clutches Sokka closer, tries to subtly grind against him. He’s so turned on it’s making it hard to think.

Sokka continues without prompting. “And after that, I’d fuck you until you can barely see straight. I’d fuck you hard, Zuko. Fuck you till you’re screaming my name. Is that what you want?”

Zuko just groans quietly. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Sokka moving against him, Sokka’s voice in his ear.

“Or would you rather ride me?” Sokka says. “Fucking yourself on my cock, letting you do all the work. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You on top, my hands all over you. Letting you come on my chest.”

“I don’t care,” Zuko rasps. “Just want you to fuck me.”

Sokka chuckles. “Right here? You’ve gotten quite bold, Your Majesty.”

Sokka pulls back, putting some distance between them. Zuko opens his eyes. The world rushes back in all at once.He is abruptly reminded that they are in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people on all sides. He feels his face go hot.

“I thought we were just naming ideas,” Sokka says innocently.

“I’m going to kill you,” Zuko says.

Sokka laughs, a loud full-bellied laugh that draws the attention of the couples around them. Zuko tries not to look too guilty under the weight of their stares.

“I think I’ve monopolized your attention for long enough, my Lord,” Sokka says. “It looks like you already have someone lined up for the next dance.”

Sure enough, there’s a man in Fire Nation reds standing off to the side, staring expectantly at the two of them as the music fades out. Zuko glares at Sokka. The band starts up a new song, lively and upbeat.

“I’ll see you later, babe,” Sokka says with a cheeky grin. And with that he disentangles himself from Zuko’s weakened grasp, plants a quick kiss on Zuko’s cheek, and practically skips away. Just before he loses himself in the crowd, Sokka turns around and gives Zuko a salacious wink.

Zuko clenches his fists, taking slow, deep breaths. Of course, of _course_ Sokka would just leave him in the middle of the dance floor with a raging hard-on. He doesn’t know what else he expected, after that stunt Sokka pulled earlier.

He meets the eyes of the Fire Nation man. The man looks vaguely concerned by Zuko’s behaviour.

“Excuse me for a second,” Zuko says, and turns on his heel.

He tracks down the nearest server, plucks a full glass of wine off of his tray, and downs it in three gulps.

He really is going to kill Sokka.

That fucking _tease._

—

As the night dwindles to a close, Zuko makes his way into the palace gardens. The familiar pathways are comforting, the gentle light from the lanterns overhead bouncing off of the leaves around him. A few guests linger here and there, smoking or chatting quietly. As he wanders through, Zuko passes by the occasional couple exchanging kisses in the shadows. He shuffles past quickly, giving them their privacy.

There’s a little gazebo tucked in one of the farther corners of the gardens that Zuko likes to go to when he needs to think. He heads there now, longing for a brief moment of solitude. He’s been talking and dancing and mingling for what feels like ages, and he’s exhausted. One of his guards silently offers him a cigarette as they approach the gazebo. Zuko takes it with a grateful smile.

His guards hang back as he climbs the steps to the gazebo, giving him space. Zuko leans against the railing and lights the cigarette with the tip of his finger. He takes a long drag. The air around him is quiet. From here, the sounds of the party are but a distant murmur.

The peace doesn’t last very long.

The crunch of footsteps approaches from behind. With a long-suffering sigh, Zuko turns to find Sokka walking towards the gazebo. He nods casually at Zuko’s guards, standing at attention on either side of the steps, and then makes his way up.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Sokka says.

Excitement and frustration war within Zuko. Frustration wins out.

“What do you want?” Zuko growls.

Sokka raises an eyebrow. “Not quite the welcome I was expecting.”

Zuko steps closer, lowering his voice so that his guards can’t hear. “You know, most people don’t really appreciate being left with blue balls in the middle of the fucking dance floor.” He turns away, taking an angry drag of his cigarette.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly rip off your clothes and ravish you right there in the middle of the dance floor, could I?”

Zuko glares at him. “Then don’t start something you can’t finish, asshole.”

“Who says I wasn’t planning on finishing it?” Sokka says, his voice low. He takes a step closer, his eyes gleaming in the low light. He plucks the cigarette from Zuko’s hand and raises it to his own mouth, taking a slow drag. Zuko can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the pucker of Sokka’s mouth around the cigarette. Sokka exhales a cloud of smoke, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Fuck. Zuko can already feel his resolve breaking, frustration melting away to be replaced by a stinging desire.

“Yun, Matsuo,” Zuko calls, addressing his guards. “You are dismissed for the night.”

There’s a moment of silence. Zuko can sense their hesitation.

“I’ll be fine,” Zuko says. “Go home. Rest.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” says Yun after a pause.

Zuko listens to them leave, trying to ignore the way Sokka is watching him. Only once he’s sure they’re out of earshot does he meet Sokka’s gaze. Sokka grins at him knowingly.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Zuko says stubbornly.

“Doesn’t it?” Sokka says. “‘Cause it seems to me like we can do anything now, and nobody will know.”

“I’m not going to fuck you in a gazebo.” He tries to look down his nose at Sokka, but it’s hard, given that Sokka is a good bit taller. “I’m the Fire Lord. I have standards.”

Sokka laughs. “You didn’t say that when I blew you in an alley in Ba Sing Se.”

“That’s different. A blowjob isn’t fucking.”

Sokka’s grin widens, and Zuko realizes his mistake a second too late.

“Well, in that case then…” Sokka takes one last drag of the cigarette, and then drops it to the ground between them, smothering it with his foot.

He backs Zuko up against the railing. It digs into Zuko’s back as Sokka leans over him, his fingers coming up and cupping Zuko’s chin. Zuko parts his lips, finally letting himself succumb to the desire thrumming through his body. He’s waited for this all night. His nerves feel set alight.

But Sokka doesn’t kiss him. He just looks at Zuko, eyes half-lidded and pupils dark with arousal. He tugs on Zuko’s lower lip with his thumb. Zuko, already impatient, tries to bite at it.

“Don’t fucking tease me, Sokka,” Zuko says. There’s a desperation in his voice that he can’t hide. “I can’t take it. Not again.”

And finally—_finally—_Sokka kisses him.

It’s hard and wet and _right_, full of pent up want and lust and yearning. Zuko clutches at Sokka’s shoulders as Sokka licks into his mouth. Sokka’s lips are rough, insistent, and he bites and nips at Zuko’s mouth with a confidence that speaks to their years of practice. They move languidly against each other, a familiar dance. Sokka swallows Zuko’s moans, tugs him closer until they’re flush against one another, not an inch of space between them.

Zuko grinds against Sokka’s leg. Pleasure washes through him, and he pulls away from Sokka’s mouth to let out a groan. Sokka grips Zuko’s thigh and hoists his leg up to wrap around Sokka’s hip. He can feel Sokka’s hard cock through his pants, and he grinds against it. Sokka drops his mouth to Zuko’s neck and begins to suck damp kisses into his skin. It feels heavenly.

“Bite me,” Zuko pants.

Obediently, Sokka sinks his teeth into Zuko’s neck. Zuko whines, a mix of pleasure-pain, and thrusts harder against Sokka. Sokka soothes over the bite with his tongue. Zuko tilts his head back, encouraging. A sort of pleased thrill runs through him at the thought of waking up with bruises on his neck. On his thighs.

“Still want me to suck you off?” Sokka says between kisses.

“Spirits, yes,” Zuko says.

They separate. Sokka’s hands immediately go to Zuko’s sash, and he unties it with nimble fingers. His robes fall open, and Sokka rucks up his undershirt, running his hands over Zuko’s abdomen, his chest. Zuko shudders when he brushes over his nipples, hardened in the cool night air. He closes his eyes and bites at his bottom lip, hands gripping the railing behind him.

Sokka moves down, cupping Zuko’s cock through his trousers. Zuko instinctively rocks forward into his touch. His breath hisses out between his teeth.

There’s the twin _thunks _of Sokka dropping to his knees. Sokka’s hands at his waistband, tugging his trousers down. He tries to stifle his groan when he feels Sokka mouth over his cock through his underwear. Sokka’s mouth is hot and damp. His tongue traces over the shape of him, slowly.

“Look at me,” Sokka says.

Zuko opens his eyes. The heat in his gut flares even hotter at the burning intensity of Sokka’s gaze. He watches, transfixed, as Sokka pulls out his cock, pumps it slowly, and then lowers his head to lick at the tip. Zuko’s legs tremble, his knees threatening to give out.

Sokka’s mouth is so, so hot. So hot and wet and perfect. He licks up the length, takes him into his mouth, strokes him slow and easy with his hand. Zuko pants brokenly, the wood of the railing digging into his fingers. He thinks he might be leaving scorch marks.

Distantly, Zuko wonders what would happen if someone were to stumble upon them. The Fire Lord, one of the most powerful figures in the world, with Republic City Councilman Sokka on his knees before him. He imagines the shock, the outrage. Imagines locking eyes with the intruder and threading his fingers through Sokka’s hair, possessive. For some reason the thought turns him on even more.

“Sokka,” he says.

Sokka hums around his cock. Zuko moans.

“Sokka,” he says. “_Fuck.”_

He desperately wants Sokka to go faster, to quit his teasing and just let him _come_, but Sokka keeps his steady pace, almost lazy, tracing haphazard patterns with his tongue. Sokka almost seems content to stay there forever, on his knees with Zuko’s cock in his mouth.

“Sokka, _please,” _Zuko begs.

Sokka pulls off of him suddenly. Zuko could cry in frustration. Sokka climbs to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He leans in and bites at Zuko’s ear.

“Remember what I said earlier?” Sokka says.

Of course Zuko does. He remembers everything Sokka said, word for word. It’s all he’s been able to think about all night.

He nods.

“Then you know,” Sokka says, “that you don’t get to come. Not until I fuck you.”

Sokka trails his fingers lightly over Zuko’s cock. It’s maddening.

“Then fuck me,” Zuko bites out.

“What happened to having standards?”

“Not here,” Zuko says, although to be honest, he couldn’t really care less anymore. “My quarters.”

He feels Sokka grin against his neck.

“Lead the way, Your Majesty.”

—

The mattress bounces as Zuko flops back onto it. Sokka follows him a second later, crawling forward until he looms over him, his palms on either side of Zuko’s head. Ducking down, he meets Zuko’s lips in a languid kiss. Zuko sighs into Sokka’s mouth and wraps his arms around his back, revelling in the feel of Sokka’s bare skin beneath his fingers.

With one hand, Sokka works the golden crown free of Zuko’s topknot and flings it carelessly to the side. Normally Zuko would be a little offended at the callousness with which Sokka handles a priceless Fire Nation heirloom, but at the moment he’s too distracted by the feel of Sokka plunging his fingers into his hair to care. Sokka grips the long strands and gives them an experimental yank. Zuko whines at the sensation, raking his nails down Sokka’s back.

“Agni, Sokka, just fuck me already,” Zuko huffs.

Sokka noses his way down Zuko’s jaw, places a wet kiss beneath his ear. “Someone’s impatient.”

“You’ve been teasing me all fucking night,” Zuko says. “Just give it to me already.”

“Bossy,” Sokka says. “I like it.”

Without warning, Sokka grinds down against Zuko, their erections sliding against each other. Zuko gasps out a curse and cants his hips up to meet him, chasing sensation.

“Is this what you want?” Sokka says, low in his ear.

“_Ungh_—fuck, yes,” Zuko moans.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I thought you wanted me—” Sokka punctuates his words with another roll of his hips, “—to fuck you.”

Zuko whines. Sokka is driving him crazy with that stupid cocky voice of his, teasing him and working him up until he can’t think straight.

“I think,” Zuko says, “you need to shut up and actually do something with that stupid mouth of yours before I kick you out and just fuck myself instead.”

Sokka chuckles. “Alright, alright, I get it. You have any oil?”

_Finally._ “Bedside table.”

Sokka rolls off of him. Zuko takes a second to readjust himself, settling more comfortably against the pillows. Sokka returns with a small glass bottle and kneels between Zuko’s spread legs. Zuko resist the urge to cover himself—it’s not like this is anything Sokka hasn’t seen before. And yet—there’s just something about the way that Sokka is looking at him that is so intense, so intimate that it makes Zuko feel helplessly exposed.

He watches Sokka tip the bottle open, spreading oil on his fingers. It suddenly feels as if every nerve ending in his body is alive, singing with anticipation. Sokka’s eyes are dark, his skin a deep brown under the low firelight. Zuko wants to be consumed by him.

With one hand, Sokka nudges Zuko’s thighs open wider. Zuko feels himself flush all the way down his chest. He fists his hands in the sheets. Sokka slowly edges a slick finger in; Zuko lets out a shuddering breath.

“This alright?” Sokka says.

“Mmm…” Zuko shifts his hips a little. “More.”

Sokka thrusts in a little deeper, and Zuko’s breath hitches. A bead of sweat slides down his temple. Sokka adds another finger.

“Mm, fuck, yes…” Zuko breathes. His eyes slip shut.

Sokka thrusts in and out a few more times, then pulls out. Zuko can feel him shifting around, the mattress dipping beneath them. Something nudges Zuko’s leg up—Sokka’s shoulder. There’s a puff of hot breath on his cock. Zuko opens his eyes.

Zuko stares, arousal coiling deep in his belly, as Sokka presses a leisurely kiss to his cock, his balls, moving lower and lower… He pushes his fingers back in, and then—_Agni—_his tongue, hot and wet and _perfect_. Zuko lets out an embarrassingly loud moan, flinging his arm over his eyes. It’s almost too much, too good.

He rolls his hips a little, fucking himself on Sokka’s fingers, his tongue. He’s so ridiculously turned on, his cock dripping precome all over his stomach. Sokka hooks a hand under his knee and pushes, spreading him even wider, and all Zuko can do is bite down on his hand to try to stifle his sounds.

“Spirits, Sokka, fuck—_ah—_fuck me,” Zuko gasps, his breathing hitching in his chest.

Sokka pulls his mouth away and smirks up at Zuko. “What was that?”

“I said—_ah, fuck!”_

Sokka soothes over the bite mark on Zuko’s thigh with his tongue, his eyes devilish. “Hmm?”

“I said—” Zuko hisses as Sokka bites him again, “—fuck me, Sokka. _Please.”_

Sokka takes his time answering, sucking a bruise onto Zuko’s skin as he continues to thrust his fingers. Zuko would smack him if it didn’t feel so good.

“Well,” Sokka says eventually, “since you asked so nicely…”

He gives Zuko’s thigh one last nip, and then gets up. He stoops to rifle through their clothes, strewn haphazardly across the floor. Zuko gives him an appreciative once-over, his gaze lingering on the tight curve of his ass. Too soon, Sokka straightens up, Zuko’s sash in hand.

He crawls back over to Zuko. “Give me your wrists.”

Something defiant rises up in him. Sokka’s had him under his thumb all night—now it’s time for the tables to turn.

“No,” Zuko says.

“No?” Sokka says.

“No.”

Sokka shrugs. “Okay.” He goes to toss the sash away, but Zuko stops him.

“Give it to me,” he says.

Sokka frowns inquisitively at him, but hands it over.

“Now come here,” Zuko says.

Sokka grins. “Bossy,” he says, but shifts closer.

“Switch with me,” Zuko says.

“Okay.”

They shuffle around for a bit, switching positions. Sokka finds himself on his back, propped up against the pillows, with Zuko kneeling between his legs. He grins wolfishly up at Zuko.

“You wanna ride me, huh, babe?” he says.

“Give me your wrists,” Zuko says.

Sokka grins even wider.

Zuko ties Sokka’s wrists together, and then loops the sash around a notch in the headboard. He gives it a firm tug, but it holds fast.

Zuko sits back, admiring his handiwork. The sash pulls Sokka’s hands up over his head, making the muscles in his arms and shoulders stand out attractively. He eyes Sokka’s lean body, an expanse of golden-brown skin, marred by scars here and there. Sokka’s eyes glow electric blue in the light. He’s_ painfully_ handsome.

“You’ve been teasing me all damn night,” Zuko says. “So now it’s my turn.” He trails his fingers up Sokka’s leg. “You can look, but you can’t touch. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sokka says.

Zuko scooches forward, straddling Sokka’s thighs. He takes Sokka’s cock in his hand, stroking lightly. Sokka usually likes to be the one in charge, he knows, but Sokka also seems to think that Zuko doesn’t know how much Sokka likes it when he orders him around every once in a while. Of course, Sokka is too proud to ever admit that, but Zuko knows that his quips about Zuko’s bossiness are never just jokes.

He meets Sokka’s eyes. Sokka stares back at him with dark eyes and parted lips. Zuko watches his mouth, the limp curl of his tongue between his teeth. He lets go of Sokka’s cock and tugs on his lip instead.

“Suck them,” Zuko says.

Sokka’s nostrils flare, but he opens his mouth, letting Zuko slide his fingers inside. A spark shoots through Zuko’s belly as Sokka’s lips close around his fingers, his tongue swirling lazily.

Sokka’s eyes never leave his as he sucks on Zuko’s fingers, his gaze burning with focused intensity. Zuko’s breath stutters in his chest. He pulls his fingers out with a scrape of teeth, a strand of saliva stretching between them and Sokka’s lips. Zuko holds Sokka’s gaze as he reaches behind himself and slowly, deliberately pushes his fingers inside. He’s already slick and wet, and they slide in easily.

He curls his fingers a little and shudders at the sensation, his eyes falling shut. He braces his free hand against Sokka’s hip.

“What would you do,” Zuko muses as he fingers himself, “if I pulled out a cock and just fucked myself right in front of you, like this?”

“Zuko…” Sokka says. His voice sounds strained.

“What would you do if I just made you watch?” He groans, his toes curling at the thought. “If I fucked myself and came on your chest and you couldn’t even touch me?”

“_Fuck_, Zuko,” Sokka whines. Zuko opens his eyes to find Sokka straining against the sash, blushing all the way down to his chest. He bucks his hips up, and Zuko bounces a little.

It’s tempting. He knows that Sokka wouldn’t complain, would get off on it if Zuko fucked himself with a dildo in his lap and made him watch, but… Zuko eyes Sokka’s cock, hard and thick and leaking precome.

He’d rather get fucked by his boyfriend.

He pulls his fingers out and shuffles forward, taking Sokka’s cock in his hand. He meets Sokka’s eye.

“I won’t do it this time,” Zuko says, “but…”

The promise hangs in the air.

Zuko sinks down onto Sokka’s cock with a sigh. Sokka moans, low in his chest. Zuko runs his hands up Sokka’s stomach, over his chest, letting himself adjust to the stretch, the fullness. He leans down presses his forehead to Sokka’s, their breaths mingling heavy and damp.

“Agni, you’re so thick,” Zuko mumbles.

Sokka just pants, seemingly at a loss for words.

Zuko begins to move, lifting himself up and then back down, slowly at first but picking up speed. Sokka rocks up into him, meeting his movements with his thrusts. Zuko’s breath feels like it’s being punched out of his chest, and he drops his head onto Sokka’s collarbone, his hair sticking to Sokka’s skin, shining with sweat.

They come together on a particularly hard thrust, and Zuko cries out suddenly, pleasure spiking through him.

“Ah, _fuck_, Sokka, there, right there,” he keens, his nails digging into Sokka’s sides. Sokka thrusts up into him again, and Zuko nearly sobs, his entire body humming with pleasure.

They’re not going to last much longer, Zuko knows. He fists his cock with one hand, the other braced against the headboard next to Sokka’s bound wrists. His thighs are burning, but he can feel his orgasm building, coiling up. Sokka looks completely wrecked, his chest heaving, the muscles in his arms bulging as he strains against his binds.

Zuko comes first. He curses loudly, curling over himself as he comes all over Sokka’s chest, white on brown. He shudders, his breath sawing out out of him, as Sokka continues to fuck into him almost desperately.

“Sokka,” Zuko says. Sokka whines.

“Sokka,” Zuko says again, mustering up his most commanding Fire Lord voice. “Come for me.”

Sokka does.

He arches off the bed, the wooden frame groaning as his weight pulls against the headboard. Eyes clenched shut, teeth bared, he spills into Zuko with a silent gasp. Zuko clenches around him—if he hadn’t just come himself, he’d blush at the sensation. They stay there for a few moments, breathing hard as they come down from their highs.

“Fuck, Zuko,” Sokka says eventually. He sounds ruined. “You’re—you’re so…”

“Shh…” Zuko presses his forehead to Sokka’s. “I know.”

They stay pressed together, the sweat cooling on their skin. Zuko brings his hands up to Sokka’s jaw and kisses his eyelid, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Sokka hums contentedly.

“Hey, Zuko?” Sokka says after a while.

“Mm?”

“Do you think you could untie me now? My arms are on fucking fire.”

—

The next morning at breakfast, a hungover Katara eyes the mottled bruises on Zuko’s neck with disgust and makes a comment about how “you’d think that he and Sokka are the newlywed couple, not us.”

Sokka glares at his sister and makes a point of drawing Zuko into a long, passionate kiss, right there at the table in front of all of their friends.

Toph makes a gagging noise. Suki and Ty Lee decide to emulate them while Mai looks on in exasperation. Katara splutters in outrage. Aang just blushes.

Sokka settles back into his seat with a self-satisfied grin. Then he leans back in, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and whispers into Zuko’s ear:

“So tell me, you have any more ideas for tonight?”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! let me know if there's anything i forgot to tag.


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